Contradicting Corinthians 13
by lilyroxmysox03
Summary: Love is not patient, or kind, and definitely boasts. The many different sides of love, from Hagrid and Olympe to Narcissa and Lucius to Molly and Arthur, Harry and Ginny. Love, however, never fails.
1. love boasts

_Love boasts._

Narcissa rolled her ice blue eyes as her sister flounced around the room, adjusting her perfume bottles and various hip flasks filled with alcohol. She tried to follow her sister's movements with her sharp orbs, but just couldn't keep up with Bellatrix's gestures; they were almost frantic, her limbs moving in excitement.

"And did you see the way he gazed at me? Oh, he loves me, I know he does." Bellatrix casually flipped the picture of Rodolphus onto its back, hidden and deaf to her confessions.

Narcissa tipped her head back, swigging down mead from one of her sister's flasks. "Uhuh," Narcissa replied sarcastically. She gazed lovingly and almost condescendingly at her younger sister. "Sure. Why don't you explain that to Rodolphus? Or to anyone, for that matter." She smiled triumphantly as her sister hesitated a little while as she digested this piece of information. Then she started straightening her room again.

"No. True love doesn't need to be boasted. He loves me." Bellatrix replied stubbornly.

Narcissa furrowed her eyebrows in frustration. Boy, did she hate the confident ways of her sister. "The Dark Lord does not love. Well, he's dedicated to his cause, as we all are, I'm sure. But the Dark Lord doesn't love any living thing." Narcissa lamented. "He's cruel, but efficient." Narcissa concluded, having made an impression argument.

She watched Bellatrix's curly hair fan out over her shoulders as she shook her head once again.

"No. I am sure of it."

* * *

**N/A~ **_They're meant to be short, so don't complain. This relationship was especially interesting to me, for it's clear that the Dark Lord doesn't have any feelings whatsoever to Bellatrix. And someone so shrewd and cunning like Bella should know, but, well, she died for him. Some unrequited love, right?_


	2. love envies

_Love does envy. _

Molly straightened her back and attempted to smooth her dress, sort of frumpy and worn from all those years of wearing it. But it was still her favorite dress, and made her feel confident. It was her show-off dress, her one good dress that cost her twenty galleons but was definitely worth it.

She cleared her throat, trying to catch the attention of her husband, who was frantically wiping his glasses against his wool sweater. "Oh, hurry up, Molly. They'll be here any minute. We'll want to look presentable."

Molly frowned slightly, but put on a good natured smile for her oldest son and his fiancée. His French fiancée. Ugh.

As soon as Fleur stepped in with her waist long silk hair, the cupid bow lips and aloof but polite nature, Molly knew at once that she didn't deserve her little William. Yet, there they were, at her doorstep, bearing a bottle of wine, wishing them a Merry Christmas. She looked hastily at her husband, looking for some support. But his eyes shone with excitement and want, peering at Fleur every so often, always beckoning, apologizing, fidgeting and appearing flustered. Molly sighed a little sigh, and her shoulders rolled forward. She could feel a slight touch on the small of her back and immediately straightened up.

"You alright?" Arthur asked, his face seeming too near for Molly's pounding and dizzy head.

"Yes." She answered quietly. Her husband smiled in response, and the tight seizing in Molly's chest went away. He still loved her, she realized.

He still loved her.

* * *

**N/A~ **_This was one of my favorites, for y'know, a couple with seven kids must have some love for one another. They're so sweet and in the books Molly's always harassing him, lol. However, away with the fluff, this is a problem that every couple goes through, and is very real._


	3. love is proud

_Love is proud._

Olympe held her chin up high, ignoring the stares of her students, her blood red gown contrasting heavily against the powder blue uniforms of her students. They seemed to melt away into the walls as she roamed the hallways, peering into classrooms to make sure the students were unruly, and the teachers were doing their jobs. She could feel the judging gazes, hear the snickering, but she did not care much. Olympe was proud, proud that she finally admitted her giant ancestry to herself and others as well.

"Madame Maxime? Eez eet true?" One of the students asked boldly one day. "Zat you are marrying zat 'Agrid from 'Ogwarts?"

Madame stopped in surprise. She wasn't aware that anyone knew of their secret engagement, aside from Hagrid's horrid half brother, and she wasn't sure that he understood anything anyway. She gave a little nod, not seeing the sense in lying to anyone. She just wasn't ready to announce it to the world. Nobody had heard of two half giants-civilized ones, at that,-marrying before.

The thought of Hagrid filled her with a sense of satisfaction, that she was worthy enough for him, the totally huggable, sweet and sensitive Hagrid. She was extremely honored to be his fiancée, and felt that others should know about it. The next time someone asked her of her engagement, she was to reply with certainty, no more dainty nods, but a warm smile, and dreamy eyes. Mrs. Olympe Hagrid.

Has a nice ring to it.

* * *

**N/A~ **_Another one of those not often talked about couples. But I've always wanted to know what happened to them after the 7th book, where Harry reminds Albus Jr. to go to Hagrid's for tea. What are your ideas?_


	4. love is rude

_Love is rude._

"Why must you be so cruel?" Tonks rasped, her voice almost robbed from her after all that screaming and unsuccessful convincing. Her eyes didn't have that playful twinkle anymore, her hair turned a mousy brown from her mood. She was huddled at the edge of Remus's bed, staring at him spitefully. "Why must you do this to us?"

Remus sighed gruffly and ran his hand through his greasy hair. He had not showered in a week, instead willingly turning into a werewolf every night to spy amongst his fellow werewolves, complying with Dumbledore's orders. "I told you, I d-don't love you, Nymphadora." He couldn't bear to look at his lover, the way he hurt her. But this cause, Dumbledore's cause, required sacrifices.

Tonks took in a shaky breath. "You don't mean that, Remus, you know you don't mean that."

"It's too dangerous to be with me. I could be discovered, and they'll kill every single member of the Order."

"_I don't care!_"

They stood there at a crossing point. Would they compromise or give up?

Remus looked at the rings of the oak floor beneath his feet. He then looked up at Tonks, and roughly grabbed her shoulders. Kissing her with all his might, he tightened his grip around her waist for just a second, then broke away. "Leave!" He flung his hands at Tonks violently. "Leave now, and never come back!" Tears filled his eyes, trying to convey a silent message.

After all this is over, we'll be together, Tonks.

* * *

**N/A~ **_I thought of this when reading the 7th book (for the 100th time). When Rowling writes of Remus's suffering throughout the books, you find that he's been doing spywork underground-literally-and that he feels ashamed at impregnating Tonks. It's so angsty! :( _


	5. love is selfseeking

_Love is self-seeking. _

Pansy, believe it or not, had self-esteem. All those jealous girls just couldn't stand the sight of her with the most amazing man ever to stand on this earth. Draco Malfoy might be a little stand offish, yes, rude at times, but it was good for her pride to even be worthy of him. Pansy had learned the hard way that no love was unconditional. Be the prettiest girl in kindergarten, and you'll get a unicorn for Christmas. Marry up, and you'll be rewarded with affection from overworked parents.

So there she was, looking into the full length mirror. Jet black hair cut into a severe bob down to her chin, the button-_not pug, god damn it!_-nose turning up in disdain over her love handles. But she was meeting Draco Malfoy for lunch soon, and therefore she was happy. Her friends often looked over at her in pity, shaking their heads at why Pansy, who could have any boy she wanted, was groveling at Draco's size nine feet. Sure, he was as handsome as Gilderoy Lockhart, but his personality was enough to make a Blast-Ended Skrewt run away from him.

Pansy alone knew the answer: She endured Draco's selfishness because that earned her respect from her peers. Draco was, after all, an incredibly young Death Eater. She had seen the mark when she hurriedly tore away his clothes during a quick rendezvous under the bleachers. People respected him, and therefore respected her. Otherwise she'd be another pretty face.

Or maybe she was still one. Figures.

* * *

**N/A~ **_After the Remus/Tonks chapter, I thought something fun! I don't know why, but many people seem to think Draco and Hermione are a good couple *retch*. Pansy is definitely a doormat, and a pretty funny/nasty one at that._


	6. love isn't patient

_Love is not patient._

"When will I get to see him again?" Ginny asked nonchalantly to her brothers the first day of summer vacation. She tucked her ginger red hair behind her ears, unwisely baring her telling blue eyes to the whole Weasley clan. You know what they say, the eyes are the window to the soul. And her soul was pretty anxious and impatient.

"Ginny," her mother replied in the same blasé tone, her back to her children as she cut up red onions. "Harry will be back soon enough. Dumbledore just wants Harry to go back to his horrid relatives, God knows why, at least for awhile." Molly spun her head around real quick to see Fred and George's mouths open, about to insert their opinions of the situation. However, with one withering gaze, the twins ducked their heads in shame. They all knew not to tease Ginny about her infatuation with Harry. No matter how obsessed Ginny was, or how Harry viewed her as a little sister, love was still love.

And Ginny was only eleven years old.

* * *

**N/A~ **_They're getting worse, aren't they? Maybe I should stop a bit and work on my Gossip Girl fanfics for awhile. Give some reassurance, please! lol. _


	7. love is easily angered

_Love is easily angered. _

The flame flickered slightly by the gentlest of winds coming from the balcony, the silk curtains billowing softly, the moon providing light, spilling over the cold, marble floors, gleaming bright.

Too bright.

Narcissa furrowed her brow impatiently, tossing around her bed, her back facing the moon. What was taking Lucius so long? She wasn't worried about her husband, no. Their love for each other-however small-had diminished years ago. However, the thought of Lucius at Voldemort's secret hideout was scaring her, especially when Draco was with them.

The sudden click of the door opening sent Narcissa to the dark cabinets of her brain. The terror, oh, the terror of being locked in the interrogation room at the Ministry of Magic. It was when she was pregnant with Draco, the Dark Lord still strong.

"Last question. Do you know a Barty Crouch Jr.?" The Auror asked in a heavy Yorkshire accent.

"N-no," She stammered.

He looked at her disbelievingly, and without a word, walked slowly out of the room, the click of the door echoing off the concrete walls.

The door opened, to reveal a cloaked Lucius, his gold, almost luminescent hair falling over his broad shoulders. If he wasn't so damn rude to everyone, Narcissa would've still found him attractive.

"Where were you?" Narcissa whispered furiously, sitting up in bed. "You have no idea where my mind had gone. How's Draco?" She peered into her husband's face, to find none of the reassuring answers.

"He gave him the Dark Mark." He answered gruffly. At the sight of his wife's horror, he hastily added, "I had to say it, like ripping off a Band-Aid."

His wife's ice blue eyes were still as wide as a magpie's, rage contorting her lips into a straight line. "What the _hell_, is a Band-Aid? And why didn't you stop him? You know how stubborn Draco can be!"

Lucius sighed, his shoulders rolling forward. He sat heavily down on the bed, the mattress sinking down with him. "Let us talk about it tomorrow. I'm tired."

"Like hell you are!" Narcissa pushed him down, holding down his shoulders. "Draco is now being dragged into this! And it's not his fight! Lucius, you have to understand, I love him like nothing else in this world!" She climbed on top of him, her nose upturned in disgust and disdain. "You are a coward." She leaned down slowly, her hair falling over like a curtain, and brushed her nose against his, closing her eyes momentarily. She could feel his excitement, but her pain was all-consuming. "Get some sleep. I have to go to him."

And as she walked away, she allowed the tears to come. She was a coward too. She had heard the rumors, that Draco's turn was soon to come. But she did nothing. As she pushed open the door to her son's bedroom, he was already fast asleep, his pale arm hanging off the bed, the hideous Mark branded on his wrist. The moonlight illuminated his face.

He was so precious.

* * *

**N/A~** _Hi! This one was weird, as I really genuinely don't like Narcissa or Lucius. It was hard for me to write in Narcissa's shoes as a mother, for I just didn't get a maternal instinct from her in any of the books, except for the occasion scared face, like 'What's happening to Draco?' and how she spoils him. To me, she'll always be the ice queen. And her sexually harassing her husband was just...weird. _


	8. love keeps records of wrongs

_Love keeps records of wrongs._

"Ronald Weasley." Hermione sat down heavily on the bench, making the glass of orange juice quiver on the table. It was eleven in the morning, prime time for studying on the weekends. Instead, she was in the Great Hall, talking to an unresponsive teenage boy. She set her elbows on the table, a very un-ladylike, and un-Hermione like gesture.

Ron barely looked up, instead nodding towards the moving comic strips in the Sunday newspaper. "Do you know," Ron saif in lieu of a hello, "that Pigmy Puffs can eat twice their weight? So, so, so many Chocolate Frogs, I envy them…" Hermione raised her eyebrows in amusement, as only one can do in stupid conversations like this.

"Really, how interesting," She continued staring at him, for a moment, then began in a rush. "Teach me how to be funny."

Ron set down his paper in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, those horrible Patil sisters were huddled together in the common room, gossiping naturally. I walked by, when they called me 'stale and a… well, a party pooper."

Ron, who was often tactless, surprisingly tried to maintain somewhat of a neutral expression. He didn't want to have the words, 'Insensitive Wart' written across his face in pimples. "And I'm an expert because?" Ron smiled smugly, for once having Hermione beg him to do something.

"Oh Ronald," Hermione sighed. Ron noticed how she took to using his full name. No one else ever did that. "This is a favor I'm asking. Remember the time when I leant you a whole years worth of Transfiguration notes? Which you still failed," Hermione added under her breath.

"Only because of your faulty notes!" Ron replied, indignant.

"Hermione plowed on. "You still owe me the time you poured paint all over my favorite skirt-"

"Accident!"

"And how you completely embarrassed me in front of Professor Lockhart-"

"On purpose, that pretty boy…"

"How about you not asking me to the Yule Ball?"

Ron hesitated. What a low blow. "Also by accident," he admitted. "You got any more?"

"You bet. A whole notebook of them. Get ready to do a lot of favors." Hermione smiled.

Ron leaned back slightly, looking left and right over the long dining table. "Nobody heard that? What a shame. Hermione's first joke!"

Hermione ducked her head, despite not having many people around. "Ronald, not so loud."

He smiled in response. "Fine. You got yesterday's Transfiguration notes?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, looked up at the see-through ceiling. The sun was shining.


End file.
